The Eye Of The Storm
by Darling Summers
Summary: No matter how long ago it happened, Shirley can never forget the past, because nobody has loved her enough to help her to forget. Shirley/Omar, believe it or not- rated T for eventual romance and slight violence.
1. Make Me A Hurricane

_**A/N:**_ My 1000 word Project Pull post for the Friday fortnight- you know the drill. Using a new word programme at the moment, so format may be a bit funny... unfortunately, my own laptop is gone for good. May it rest in pieces. (Quite literally.) First chapter's inspired by the Nerina Pallot song, Everything's Illuminated- it turned out a lot darker than I'd intended!

* * *

_**Chapter One- Make Me A Hurricane**_

The sedate February day that whispered the heralding notes of spring was the warmest we'd had in a while. The buds on the trees of Mallin's Wood had began to resurface, dotting the lethargic forest with flickers of life that promised to burst into a sudden crescendo of emerald canopies and vibrant berries as the year wore on. For the first time in what seemed like years, I did not feel the crunch of ice underneath my custom-made wellies, and my cashmere scarf gradually made my neck feel constricted and stuffy. I unwound it contemplatively and tied it in a loose knot around my waist, the cream colour a stark contrast to the soft navy wool of my coat.

A sleepy-looking hedgehog that looked like it could have been a sloth in a previous life blearily emerged from a pile of leaves, its heavy, snuffling gait and half-lidded round, shiny eyes indicating that it was recovering from the hangover-like effect of its hibernation. I plucked a late holly berry from a sapling, and tossed it towards the creature, and the hedgehog began to investigate it thoroughly. It gave a polite, customary lick, before turning its nose up at it. I didn't really blame it; it didn't look too appetizing. Small patches of mildew had started to attack these lingering traces of winter. Their time was long up- it was time to let spring have its day in the sun.

Everything was awakening- every crevice, every tree hollow was coming to life, but nothing could fully penetrate the calm, resolute atmosphere breathed out by ancient trees that had stood here for a thousand years, and if the great and mighty Universal Trustee and Co. had anything to do with it, would stand here for a thousand more.

In a sudden, not entirely uncommon stab of resentment, I wanted nothing more than to destroy it. The still, hushed feeling of peace that cloaked Hescombe was entirely unsuited to my present frame of mind- I would have given anything for a good hurricane, or tsunami, or thunderstorm... anything to alleviate the anger, to numb the fury and jealousy, twin evils that raised their ugly heads every time she slipped her hand into his, and every time he raised his hand to lovingly brush her cheek with his fingers. Oh, it wasn't _him _I was hurting for- I had gotten over that years ago.

No... it was something much more simple than that. More difficult in a way, I suppose. At least if it had been him, I would have some semblance of blaming it on the fact that, for the moment, he was just too focused on somebody else to notice me- some sort of hope.

All I want... is the same thing that they had. It's the only thing I want any more. I'd trade every designer dress in my wardrobe (heck, the shoes, as well!) if I could experience that kind of love. Just for a moment. I can't afford to be greedy- not any more.

After that day- the _one time _I lost my control- nobody trusted me any more. Even up at the headquarters in London, everybody knew. I felt their cold stares burning into me when my back was turned, as I pretended to run a listless finger over meaningless words in a meaningless volume in the vast library. I had made my decision, and there was no going back on it now. How are you supposed to find anybody to love you after that?

No.

After what I had done, I stood no chance.

I turned to the horizon, giving a soft flutter of my hand as if I was about to begin conducting an orchestra- the calm before the storm, before the music hits you. Today, it was undoubtedly going to play in a minor key. I snapped a twig from a nearby birch and began to use it as an impromptu baton. A sharp gust of wind sprang from nothing, tossing the debris that littered the forest floor around me into fluid waves of earth, wavering, yet ready, to obey my slightest command.

The pile of rotting leaves that had been sheltering the hedgehog suddenly sprang into the air to join the dance, sending the hedgehog flying. It rapidly scuttled into a sheltered tree hollow, regarding me with betrayed, hurt-filled eyes. I didn't care. I was already caught up in the beautiful, destructive music, more addictive than any narcotic, more numbing than any painkiller, more compelling than any fantasy.

I gave my wrist a sharp flick and the wind crested rapidly, spinning my dance partners into the tumbling chasm of a miniature cyclone. In the eye of the storm, I had an unobstructed view of the startling chaos. I loved it- the wild, turbulent passion of the elements was the only love open to me, and I'll be damned if I didn't make the most of it. I wanted more.

I clenched my hand into a fist around my branch, the dry, papery bark indenting white calluses into my hand, before flicking my wrist again. The sky burst open, the sharp daggers of icy rain tearing away at the remaining semblance of peace that the morning was desperately trying to grasp onto. I threw my head back and let the rain pelt furiously at my unprotected face, sending a black stream of black mascara coursing down my cheeks. My blonde hair, so carefully arranged into ringlets earlier this morning, now lay flat, soaked and poker-straight down my back. I knew I was more powerful- why should I bend to time's will? Lightning flashed dangerously across my vision, and I painted my thoughts onto my blank canvas of the sky with deep, sweeping brushstrokes of dark purples, charcoal greys, midnight blues and coal black.

The clouds flashed, giving warning that the symphony was about to approach its loudest crescendo yet. I threw both arms open unflinchingly, recklessly, inviting my lightning to wreak havoc on the landscape.

_Do your worst, _I challenged.

It accepted my challenge instantly, and flew down towards me, striking the holly sapling, sending splinters of charred wood in every directions. The bush burst into flames, and I laughed, revelling in the chaos.

I didn't see the next bolt of lightning coming. My last conscious thought of that moment was how beautiful the sky looked... the way that I had made it.


	2. Playing With Matches

**_A/N: _**Just another quick little Project Pull Post- my 1000 word post for the Friday fortnight is just over the quota, thank goodness :D Title's taken from the Regina Spektor song, Braille, for this one :) Enjoy!

* * *

**_Playing With Matches_**

The single, lonely lightbulb, dangling from a thin, drab grey wire which hung limply from the ceiling, began to flicker uncertainly, as if it couldn't decide whether or not there was any point in continuing. Another flash of lightning from outside the window prompted it into making up its mind, and the room was plunged into darkness. I closed over my history textbook, dog-earing one of the yellowing pages to keep my place, and pushed my chair back from the desk, wincing a the dissonant shriek of protest it gave at being dragged along the solid wooden floor in such a callous manner.

Mum always kept oil lamps for when the electricity gave out. Usually, we managed to fulfill the meagre sum of money set aside for general household bills, but Mum was still in hospital, so she couldn't work. We were currently living off a combination of the money I had saved from my part-time jobs and Society funds- fine for somebody like Dr. Brock, who lives alone and doesn't need much money anyway, but when Mum isn't here, and I have to support two younger brothers- three if you count Liam, who stays here so often he's practically a Khalid too- it's... diffiult.

I pulled one of the lamps from a shelf in the hallways, and set it up beside my desk, admiring the flickering shadows the enclosed flame cast on the walls. If I look closely, I'm able to make out distinct figures, albeit tiny ones, dancing around the wax-enclosed wick. One spark leapt recklessy from the wick, and plummeted down into the paraffin, where it was extinguished with a hiss. Almost instantly, the figure reappeared on the tip of the flame, and raised an illuminated twig of an arm, a tiny, distinct, glowing limb, in cheeky salute. I nodded my head in acknowledgement, and pushed the lamp farther away from me, so that the light fell across my reading area.

Annoyed at being ignored, the imp somersaulted in place, giving a loud crackle of protest. I rolled my eyes, and raised an eyebrow at him. Completely unperturbed, he tumbled around the wick again, unrepentantly playful, taunting my wandering focus with its daredevil antics. Although I can't distinguish many fire imps from one another, as they are not my companion species, I always recognize Lau, Mum's companion. He likes to keep an eye on all of us when we're in fire's vicinity- especially after what happened to Mum.

What happened... well, it was completely unprecedented. It had appeared that the remainders of Kullervo's forces had fully dissipated, as their attacks had been few and far between in recent years. Mum had been in Fiji, to take part in a conference of fire imp companions after a surplus of the imps had been created in a previously dormant volcano, and were threatening the livelihood of the area if they caused the volcano to erupt. They needed companions to reason with the fire-imps- to relocate them, if possible, and they needed it done fast. They couldn't interact with their own companions for the duration of their stay, as it would interfere with the investigation.

Mum was the first to volunteer.

After a week, they still hadn't made contact- it was as if the fire imps didn't want to be found. It was only afterwards that it was discovered that the stone sprites had merely covered up their presence there- a seemingly innocent cluster of the creatures buried deep in the volcanic rock had managed to extend their shields across and within the malignant magma which contained the imps.

The night before Mum's flight back home to London, she went out, by herself, to make one final attempt at contact. Nobody had seen it coming- and nobody had realized that she had gone until the following morning. If Mum hadn't been a fire imp companion, that night, she would have died out there. Lau had eventually managed to break through the flood of fire imps- he protected her from the continuing onslaught of fire imps by renewing her companion's immunity, and during the dark, cold night, he had prevented her from dying through shock or cold, by giving constant shocks to her circulatory system to keep her heart going. The entire night, he had covered her in a soft blanket of fire, and raised the alarm through flares and sparks the following morning.

It's suspected that Kullervo's forces were behind it- but there's never such focus on a single person. It seems completely out of character for the renegade creatures. Usually, they attack large groups, to achieve maximum impact and damage- Mum was targeted when she was by herself. Usually, they attack non-companions, to undermine the Society's rules of keeping mythical creatures a closely guarded secret- Mum was a fully fledged companion. Usually, they attack in broad daylight- Mum was attacked long after sunset. Usually, they target heavily populated, urbanized areas- Mum was in the middle of nowhere.

Why attack her?

Lau hadn't been able to get there in time to prevent all the damage. Mum had already suffered from extensive first-degree burns by the time he had reached her, and when they rushed her back to hospital, she had to get several skin grafts to repair the damage, despite the best efforts of several unicorn healers. That was over three months ago- Mum is still in the hospital, and we're still living off Society funds.

Despite everything, we still have our pride, and we're not going to give that up by asking for more help than we deserve. The Trustees have made it more than clear that if we need anything else, we're welcome to it- it's obvious that they still bore the burden of guilt that was bestowed upon them after sending a group of completely unarmed, unprotected companion to face renegade forces. It echoes far too vividly of the infamous, doomed march on the North in George Brewer's time. As unlikely as it felt, to us, at least, the Society got off lucky this time. At least history didn't repeat itself this time.


End file.
